


i'll be here in pieces when you finally pull the pin

by allsassnoclass (brightblackholes)



Series: Tie Me Down [1]
Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Unrequited Love, emotional masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblackholes/pseuds/allsassnoclass
Summary: They only ever do this on the road, and only when Alex initiates.  When they first started, years and years ago, Jack would fight against that surrender of control tooth and nail, but it’s different now.  If he’s being honest with himself, it was different back then, too, because Jack could’ve stopped at any time, could’ve said no and walked away, but he always came back for more.  Alex saidjumpand Jack lept at the chance to askhow high,and nothing has changed.  Alex will always be the most the addictive drug Jack has ever tried, and he has never once considered trying to quit him.
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth
Series: Tie Me Down [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996828
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	i'll be here in pieces when you finally pull the pin

**Author's Note:**

> so Bella (bellawrites, I'm too lazy to link her properly right now) said "someone write a jalex fic based on Tie Me Down by Every Avenue" and then said "wait don't it'd probably be smutty and angsty" but I decided to anyway. never thought I'd be writing jalex in 2020 but here we are! there's no actual smut but they do have sex and I would say it's decently angsty so do with that what you will

Jack loves life on the road.

He was never meant to settle down. They started this thing as teenagers, itching to explore and sprint to every corner of the world that they could, and Jack feels like he never quite outgrew that. Even with Rian working with his studio in Nashville and Alex buying a fucking farm of all things, Jack stays in LA and parties and waits until they can get back on the road so he can stop vibrating out of his skin. The impermanence suits him, but it’s not his favorite thing about being on tour. It should be the fans, or the music, or any number of things, but it’s not those either.

It’s Alex.

“Hey,” he says right before they’re set to go onstage, shadows of the wings hiding his face but not his posture. He’s leaning close, tilted towards Jack in a way that has less to do with the fact that they’re surrounded by people now and more to do with what he wants later. Jack recognizes the way his voice dips, how he’s standing, the smell of his cologne. It used to send shivers through him.

(It still does, but they’ve been doing this for long enough that he’s gotten good at hiding it.)

“I’m coming to your room after,” Alex says, as if Jack might have other plans and his life doesn’t revolve around Alex and the things he can do with his mouth, like singing or other actions that Jack is particularly interested in.

“Sure,” he shrugs. Alex tilts his head and smirks in a way that lets Jack know he’s not as casual as he’s trying to be, but Jack doesn’t have time to fix that before the lights onstage are dimming and they’re being ushered forward.

They only ever do this on the road, and only when Alex initiates. When they first started, years and years ago, Jack would fight against that surrender of control tooth and nail, but it’s different now. If he’s being honest with himself, it was different back then, too, because Jack could’ve stopped at any time, could’ve said  _ no _ and walked away, but he always came back for more. Alex said  _ jump _ and Jack lept at the chance to ask  _ how high _ , and nothing has changed. Alex will always be the most the addictive drug Jack has ever tried, and he has never once considered trying to quit him.

He makes the mistake of looking at Alex during the first song and fumbles his chords when he gets a wink in response. Alex laughs at him, cocky and sure-footed, and Jack can’t wait for the show to end while simultaneously knowing that he should enjoy the flirting while he can.

The issue with only doing this when Alex wants is that Jack is always left wanting more.

The show passes in a blur of stage lights and sweat and Alex’s vocals ringing through his in-ears. Jack doesn’t remember what he says during the talking breaks, only that it makes Alex’s eyes slide over to him, and Jack lets his gaze settle on his shoulders, keeping him grounded until he knows Alex will be able to hold him down in a different way and take him apart. By the time the show is over he’s shaking with a mix of post-show adrenaline and pre-Alex anticipation, just enough for Zack to ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah, of course,” Jack says, and when Alex lets his fingertips dance over Jack’s shoulder as he passes, Zack understands.

The band knows. It’s kind of mortifying, but in a way that adds to the entire experience. He’s sat through the cautious talks from Zack and Rian, but there isn’t anything either of them can say that he hasn’t already told himself.

He can stop at any time. There’s no need to constantly be putting himself through this push and pull, to be led on by his best friend time and time again only for him to leave right after he finishes, making Jack try to pick up the pieces of himself alone. Every time with Alex feels like an explosion, and Jack is well aware that he’s letting himself take all the damage, shrapnel sticking in his guts that he has to pry out with steady hands once he calms down enough. Still, he’s the one who agrees to it. He knows that Alex isn’t going to stay the night, knows that they’re not going to do breakfast in bed or tender kisses or any of that other stuff that couples do, because they aren’t one. That’s not what Alex wants, and Jack would rather have this than nothing.

Zack had once asked Jack why he still did this, after all these years of fucking Alex and never getting anything more out of it. Jack joked that he’s a masochist, but that’s only because that truth is a little easier to reveal than the simple fact that it’s Alex.

He makes it back to his hotel room in one piece and rinses off, even though he’s going to need to again afterwards. Alex likes to draw things out, to have him shaking and begging beneath him until it hurts and the only thing Jack can make himself focus on is the way Alex’s hair is plastered to his forehead, because looking into his eyes would be too much, even for him.

There’s a knock at his door before he’s finished towel-drying his hair, and Jack makes himself take a deep breath and walk to open it at a normal pace, rather than trip over his own feet in his haste to have Alex’s hands on him.

“Hey,” Alex says, wearing sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that used to be Jack’s, once upon a time. It doesn’t mean anything, because clothing always gets mixed up on the road, but it kick-starts that sting in his chest that nights with Alex like this always bring.

“Good show tonight,” Alex says, and Jack hums in agreement. Some tension releases when Alex rolls his eyes and presses forward, finally bringing their mouths together, because this is something Jack can handle. There’s a very distinct line between Alex-The-Best-Friend-Slash-Bandmate and Alex-Who-Fucks-Jack-Up, and small talk goes with the first Alex, not the second. That’s the one thing that Jack can’t let himself mix up, because tangling those two would have more repercussions than he or anyone around him could handle.

“Been thinking about this all day,” Alex says when he finally pulls back for air, and Jack groans. It’s unfair, it’s so totally unfair to suggest that he’s not the only one who wants this and Alex knows it, but that doesn’t stop either of them from playing this game every time.

The rest of Jack’s thoughts dissolve with a particularly filthy kiss and two thumbs pressing into the divots of his hips, and before he knows it they’re on the bed with clothes off.

Fuck, Jack can’t get enough of the sight of the hair on Alex’s chest or the moles on his back or the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Every sharp breath that he manages to coax out of him and low groan is better than all of the music in the world, and every bruise left on him makes him swear and moan and think  _ why the fuck are we not doing this all the time _ .

He’s breathless and ready to explode before Alex even grabs the condom.

“Eager, are we?” Alex asks when Jack whines at the lack of contact caused by him reaching for the lube.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack says, as if Alex isn’t fully aware how much Jack is always gagging for him.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” Alex says. Jack doesn’t reply except to try to breathe. Words like that hurt in the best way, a reminder that everything he wants is close enough for his fingertips to brush, but far enough that he can never actually reach it. Jack already knows that he’s going to replay it in his head all night, pressing viciously on that bruise just to feel the ache that comes with it.

It doesn’t last as long as he wants, and it feels so good while his heart is shattering, because this means Alex is going to leave again and who knows when he’ll get this next. He’ll see Alex tomorrow, but it’ll be Alex-The-Best-Friend, and he won’t be privy to the face Alex makes when Jack does something just right that makes his toes curl or the way his eyes shine or his ragged breathing.

“Thanks,” Alex says when they’ve both recovered, like Jack did a small favor such as restringing his guitar, rather than give Alex a piece of himself.

“No problem,” he replies. “I’m here all week.”

Alex huffs an outline of a laugh. Jack doesn’t say  _ I wasn’t joking _ or  _ just stay the night _ or  _ fuck, yes, hurt me again because it feels so good _ or  _ I’m probably in love with you, you know? _

Jack walks him to the door, under the pretense that he wants to lock it behind him and not because he wants to stay close for just a few moments longer. Alex pauses with his hand on the handle, then turns.

“Seriously, thank you,” he says. “I know this isn’t always easy for you.”

Jack snorts. Alex frowns, and Jack can see the sincerity there, the worry that comes around every so often that has Alex asking questions like  _ should we stop? _ and saying things like  _ Jack, I don’t want to actually hurt you. You’re my best friend and I love you _ .

“Having sex with you isn’t exactly a hardship,” Jack says. Alex keeps staring at him, and suddenly Jack can't take the weight of his gaze, looking down at the carpet instead. Being tied down like this is different, vulnerable in a way that he can’t face and can’t make surface-level innuendos about.

“We should stop.”

“I’d rather have you fuck me up than anyone else,” he says before he can think. It’s too honest in the quiet of the room, the fan from the hotel bathroom the only backing track for this conversation, but it’s out there now. He’d say anything to ensure that he gets to keep what little piece of being with Alex he has. When he makes himself look up, Alex’s frown is deeper, eyes searching his face. Jack doesn’t know what he’s going to find, and he’s terrified of what it could be.

Alex frowns for a second longer, then blinks the expression away. They spend a moment just standing there, breathing the same air, and Jack is about to step back and break it for his own good when Alex brings a hand up to cup his cheek. He’s leaning into it before he can stop himself, and then Alex’s lips are pressing against his again, except slow and sweet and tender in a way he’s never gotten to experience. Jack sinks into it, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted but it’s also painfully unfamiliar. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and he doesn’t know what the right amount of pressure is and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go on existing when he knows it’s possible for Alex to kiss him like this but he won’t.

When Alex pulls away, Jack forces himself to open his eyes and keep his knees from buckling underneath him.

He wants to know if Alex is aware that he’s made things worse, or if he thinks he helped. 

Alex’s thumb brushes over his cheek one more time, and then he pulls back, cutting off all contact between the two of them.

“Good night, Jack,” he says, voice soft. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, then clears his throat so he can speak without his voice cracking. “See you.”

Alex opens the door and steps out. Jack closes it behind him, then slides the lock in place. He stands there for a moment, imagining that Alex is on the other side standing there, too, just as reluctant to leave. It’s a fantasy he shouldn’t indulge in, but it’s one of his favorites.

He sighs and steps away. The shower has hot water and good soap. He makes his way to the bathroom and begins the process of washing away all traces of Alex from his skin, starting the first step of putting himself back together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
